Perfection: It's On Me
by PfenixB
Summary: Remember that lunch date Cid promised Mia? The time has come...and boy, does she disapprove of Vincent...


Remember that lunch date Cid promised Mia? Here it is...

Disclaimer: Neither of us own Cid, Vincent, FFVII, or Gaia...unless **calvi-sama**'s hiding something from me. We own Mia jointly, and we are also jointly confused as to what to do with her after this...

* * *

Cid was a little concerned that Vincent had decided to go with him to meet Mia at their planned luncheon. He had given up fussing over the ex-Turk's choice of clothing, as that had earned him nothing but a few withering glances and, finally, a quick, unpleasant look at Cerberus. After that, he had turned to stalling in front of the bathroom mirror, straightening his collar over and over until it threatened to wrinkle. Vincent eventually came in and not-so-gently explained to him that if they were going, they were going _now_, and dragged him out the front door. Once outside, Cid was more confident, even going so far as to link arms with Vincent for the duration of the walk just outside the busy part of the city. No one in town even bothered to glance at them anymore when they came in together; they were expected to be seen that way, and Cid drew more glances when he came in by himself for supplies. He hated to think how many people looked at Vincent when he was alone. The thought made him draw Vincent possessively closer, slipping his arm from the other man's and putting it around his waist instead. "We been t'that place b'fore, Vince, 'member? People were real p'lite an' all, an' y'liked th'food." Cid wanted to babble, to fidget, and to run all at the same time, but this was necessary, and he would stick it out. He told himself it was for Vincent, and though he knew that wasn't true, it made things much easier. His chest puffed out, he opened the door for Vincent as they reached the restaurant, and followed him timidly when he noticed that his mother was already seated, likely tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for them.

"Well? What took ya so long?"

"My fault, Momma. Dilly-dallyin'."

"Mm-hm," Mia said, and she managed to make the two meaningless syllables sound so heavy, so judgmental, that Cid's hands shook as he pulled out Vincent's chair for him. He had thought he had outgrown this fear of his mother's disapproval, but clearly he still had some way to go. *

Vincent had to grit his teeth and remind himself that he and Cid had discussed this meeting…at great length. It was heartbreakingly clear that Cid was terrified about introducing him to his mother, and quite frankly, he didn't blame him after witnessing Mia's first and sudden explosion into their lives. It was that fact that allowed him to maintain a certain level of calm patience as Cid fussed over him. He also knew how much this meant to Cid, though the pilot would never openly admit it. So he had taken great pains to dress as respectably as he could manage. He didn't have many clothes and what he did have were chosen by how functional they were, _not _fashionable; however, he did have a very stylish pair of black slacks that paired nicely with a tailored black silk shirt that he had decided to wear for this occasion. He had left his gauntlet at home, though lately it had gotten more difficult for him to keep his hand in a "normal" position due to muscle fatigue, and he had had to wear the metal "glove" to give himself some relief. In place was the familiar black glove, though the other hand was bare. He had done what he could with his hair, but it was still a bit shaggy and unruly and kept falling over an eye so he had to continuously remove it from his field of vision. As they walked through the front door of the little café, he noticed that the tiny woman was already there and seated, and he flexed his fist as he reminded himself to be patient to keep from snapping at Cid for causing them to be late. He was _not_ going to botch this for Cid. So he carefully schooled his face into a serene and calm expression as he stood and waited for Cid to make the formal introductions.

Cid jumped imperceptibly as he realized he had yet to introduce them. "Momma, this's Vincent Valentine, as if y'didn't know. Vince's…well. Y'know th'rest. Vince…m'momma," he finished lamely, jerking a hand in Mia's general direction. He wished he had been better able to explain Vincent's relationship to him, but he had never seen how such a thing could be described in words.

Smiling pleasantly, he held out his hand, which the tiny woman accepted, and he was surprised by the strength of her grip. He returned it, careful to make his grip firm but not painful. He nodded respectfully, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Highwind. But I feel I have to apologize for my behavior when you first visited us. I was rude, and I fear that I was rather temperamental that day. I was hoping you might see fit to forgive me."

"We'll see about that," Mia said, looking Vincent up and down. She turned her attention to Cid. "Well? Don't I get a kiss or anything?"

Rolling his eyes behind their lids, Cid walked around the table and bent down to kiss Mia's cheek before taking his seat beside Vincent. He laced their fingers together under the table immediately, leftovers from the walk through town mixing with the need for moral support. "So, Momma, how've ya been doin'?"

"What, since last time? 'Bout th'same. Thought I might hear from ya b'tween then an' now, but I guess that wasn't too smart. How 'bout y'all? More nothin'?"

Vincent gave Cid's hand a squeeze under the table, suddenly needing the support as much as Cid as he tried to stand up under the hostility radiating from this tiny woman. He cleared his throat and said, meeting her gaze levelly, "We are well, ma'am. We have managed to keep busy." He nudged Cid's leg, prodding the man to say more.

"Started workin' on buildin' a stable. Think I'm gonna start breedin' chocobos again."

"That ain't a real job, y'know."

"Is if I race 'em."

"Y'shouldn't do that yerself. Get yerself hurt."

Cid blinked disbelievingly at his mother. "So it's all right when I go off savin' the world an' flyin' in half-dead airships, but racin' birds on tracks that ain't even real is too dangerous?"

"Well, y'got somebody else t'support now, doncha?"

"He c'n take care'f 'imself. As 'e likes t'remind me so often," Cid teased, smiling fondly at Vincent.

"Don't change th'fact thatcha got an obligation to 'im now, if y'care about s'much as y'seem t'want me t'b'lieve y'do."

"'Course I do. An' I plan t'do everything I can for 'im. But I'm also gonna do what I wanna do, an' if he can't handle that, then he needs t'get over 'imself." Cid winced. That probably didn't come out half as well as he'd imagined…

Vincent was amused as he listened to mother and son interact. He looked down at his lap to hide his grin, and when he got his expression back under control he looked back up and went for his water. After taking a sip and replacing the glass back on the table he said softly, "With all due respect ma'am, if Cid wishes to breed chocobos and it makes him happy, then I am in full support. He is a grown man, capable of making his own decisions and it is not my place to tell him not to and I'd like to think that we "support" each other."

Cid heaved a huge mental sigh at the same time he sent Mia a smug glare that clearly said _"See? Told you so." _Just for good measure, he squeezed Vincent's hand again and began stroking it with his thumb apologetically. Before he could say anything, however, Mia spoke again.

"Support, huh? Y'know what that gets ya? Jack shit. 'Cause if y're just focused on supportin' 'im, you ain't gonna be able t'do no different when 'e d'cides he c'd find somethin' better t'do than support you. An' then y're left there like an idiot supportin' nothin'. An' lemme tell ya, that nothin' can be pretty damn heavy. Crush ya if it wants to."

"Momma," Cid said, as gently as he could, "we ain't…_he_ ain't, an' y'know _I_ ain't, like that. Y've seen enough t'know if anything, I'll be the one left there. But Vince's the same way, an' even tougher'n me. Maybe it's good fer everyone, like ya say, but it don't end the same way fer everybody."

Mia grunted, a sound Vincent likely knew well, as it was the Highwind signal for the end of a conversation.

Cid resisted the urge to smirk. He had won…for the time being. She would probably get them back later, but for now, he was right for all she knew, and very pleased with himself.

"So…Vincent. How long's it been now? When'd it start, I mean. I bet it was under the whole 'world's gonna end' pressure, huh? An' that's th'only reason y'd even consider 'im. I just bet."

He couldn't believe she had just said that. Vincent blinked, stunned for the first time in a very, _very_ long time. His expression changed to one of clear warning, as he glared his disapproval at her, "No." He said flatly, feeling his ire rising and he made a conscious effort to push it back. He forced his body to relax and he leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs properly, and rested their clasped hands in his lap in a display of possession. He blinked again and continued, keeping his voice pitched low and calm, "I could have cared less if the world had ended, as I had nothing to live for, so a relationship was the last thing I had wanted. I shouldn't think I would have to tell you this, as you are his mother, but in light of what you have just said, I feel compelled to. Your son…is a very special man, with a very big heart. Do you wish to know what made me 'consider' him? His honesty. His courage for pursuing something that for all he knew was out of his reach. It truly saddens me that you have been hurt, to make you say such things. I too have been hurt, betrayed by someone for whom I cared very deeply, and as a result, I had shut myself away; convinced myself that people only exist to use others for their own gain. But I was proven very wrong." He looked over at Cid for a moment before returning his eyes to Cid's mother's. "I would be a fool indeed to turn my back on that. So I would appreciate it if you refrain from saying such things about Cid, and presuming to know anything about our relationship."

Cid remembered again in that moment just how much he loved Vincent and why. He watched, amazed, as the normally quiet, temperate man leapt to defend him, harsh expression backed by powerful words, and thought he had never needed anything as badly as he would always need Vincent. His next thought was that he had never felt so much like a woman.

Mia politely excused herself to the ladies' room when she determined that Vincent was done for the moment. She spared him a curt nod and nothing more as she walked away, sniffing haughtily.

"Vince?" Cid asked, and Vincent turned to him, eyes still intense with the anger he had just shown. Cid smiled weakly. "Told ya wasn't nothin' I c'd say t'prepare ya fer her."

In a rare, impulsive moment, Vincent wrapped his hand around the back of Cid's neck and brought the man in for a penetrating kiss. When he released Cid and leaned back he said, "Don't you apologize to me…regardless of how you word it. You are not responsible for what she says or what she does. How many times have you told me 'we've been through worse,' hn? She's hurting, Cid, and perhaps I was bit harsh, but I'll not have her talking about you like that."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Cid resented what had just passed between them. He shouldn't need this, shouldn't need to be protected, defended, reminded how special he was. He should be able to stand on his own two feet. Those thoughts were quickly washed away when he contented himself with the fact that it wasn't like this often, and that he sometimes did the same for Vincent. He was going to respond –and it would have been a little late, as he had been daydreaming for some time- and make hints about getting Vincent home while he was still so worked up, but Mia returned from the restroom looking much less likely to verbally attack either of them.

"Well now," she said, primly placing her napkin in her lap, "I think it's time to call a waiter, don't you?"

Vincent smiled pleasantly at Cid's mother and said, "Indeed." He caught a waiter's eye, motioned him over, and gestured for Mia to order first.

The waiter, who had witnessed the mild outburst a few minutes before, was careful to write down both Mia's and Vincent's orders precisely. He did not ever want either of them upset with him. He also made a note to himself to make sure that the poor blond who seemed caught between the two of them got a free dessert at the end of this. He could sympathize, he thought. His mother and wife hated each other with a passion he wished his wife would apply elsewhere…thoughts trailing off, the waiter smiled politely and gave the group of three the obligatory, "We'll be right with you," before scurrying off to the kitchens.

_Stupid stupid stupid stupid. Didn't come here t'act like nobody's girl_. "So Vince, why don't y'tell Momma that story y'told me th'other day 'bout th'time y'got arrested at Mideel?"

It was sheer luck alone that kept Vincent from spitting his drink out all over the tiny woman sitting across from him. Removing his napkin from his lap, he carefully wiped his mouth before replacing it and slowly turning an incredulous stare onto Cid. "I fail to see how something that happened well over thirty- er…so long ago in my past is relevant now." He sighed and looked at Cid's mother. "I was young and very inebriated. I … assaulted a member of the local constabulary and was subsequently arrested. I should like to think that I have learned my lesson. As it was, I was thoroughly reprimanded by my superiors and I was extremely careful not to let it happen again, which is more than I could say for several of my peers." He kicked Cid under the table with a well-placed boot to the shins. If he was going to win this woman's acceptance, talking about mistakes he made in his past was _not _the way to go about it!

Cid bit his tongue against the sound of pain that threatened to accuse Vincent. His mother would not be pleased if she gained any more reason to think Cid let Vincent push him around. Instead, he kicked back, glowering. "Anyway, point was, it makes me think about that one time th'same thing happened t'me, 'member that? Well, not the same thing…I wasn't drunk…an' it wasn't assault…an' I wasn't arrested…okay, so maybe not. Anyhow…point is, Vince spent time bein' a stupid kid, but he done grown out of it." Cid really had no idea anymore what point he had been trying to make…but that one sounded at least halfway decent.

Mia watched from across the table, distaste fading a little. Cid was too stubborn to let her talk him out of this if it was what he really wanted, and she knew that. And if she wasn't going to get a decent reaction, she didn't see the point in trying. That did not, of course, mean that she planned to view Vincent as anything more than a passable excuse for a human being. "You always were an idiot," she muttered affectionately to Cid.

Vincent winced when Cid kicked his shin, which he hid behind resituating himself in his chair, and he shot the pilot a glare. "In that, at least, we agree," he grunted, leaning down to rub his shin, which stubbornly refused to quit stinging. _Gods damned steel-toed boots, Highwind!_ he thought irritably. If he could bruise, that would have been a real shiner. Clearing his throat, Vincent leaned back and leveled a mild gaze onto Cid's mother. "You don't approve of me, I see that, and while I would wish it otherwise, I can respect it. Is there truly no way that I might put your mind at ease, Mrs. Highwind?"

"My mind ain't been at ease since that child was born," she retorted airily, waving away the topic with an indifferent, uninterested hand. She was distracted a moment later by the appearance of the waiter, who placed their plates appropriately, refilled their drinks, and promised to return to check on them soon.

Cid wasn't really hungry, but he had ordered, and if he didn't eat, his mother would only grow more suspicious and accusatory. Reluctantly letting go of Vincent's hand, he dug into his steak with feigned interest, knowing that Vincent would likely recognize the signs, while Mia would not.

Mia picked at her salad, removing all the cheese before adding the dressing and beginning to eat it. Cid had not gained his love of complex foods from her; she had, possibly just to see if Vincent would react, ordered a grilled cheese sandwich, tomato soup, and the salad. She would have turned up her nose at half the dishes Cid prepared for Vincent at home, and she had often teased him when he was younger for having too much creativity. She grew sullen for a moment, knowing that had he not been so obsessed with those damned rockets, that creativity could have gotten him somewhere. _Guess 'e turned out t'be somebody after all_, she thought grudgingly, remembering AVALANCHE. She swallowed daintily and addressed Vincent again, "Y'can't tell me you don't worry 'bout 'im, anyhow."

Vincent watched Cid pick at his food and he smiled sadly, rubbing the man's thigh a moment before picking up his fork and beginning to work on his salad. He cocked his head and regarded the tiny woman, "I do," he affirmed, "I sometimes worry that he cares too much, and the thought of him being hurt because of that scares me. It makes me want to protect him, but that might do more harm than good, I should think." His love for the pilot tempered his anger and made him feel rather benign toward her. "Has he always been so sensitive?"

Mia, shrewd as she was, refused to let Vincent's words melt her heart. "I think you already know th'answer t'that. But I'll tell ya straight out- those ain't my genes he's showin'."

Cid stopped pretending to eat his food. He had listened for years to his mother going on about what a coward his father was, how weak he was, and now she was comparing Cid to him. He picked up his drink with one and let the other fall under the table again in a clenched fist. After downing half the soda, he let out a shaky breath and shook his head, unable to get his breathing under control. "'Scuse me," he said, leaving the table to wait out his anger in the bathroom.

Glass raised halfway to his lips, Vincent watched, startled, as Cid stood and excused himself, walking stiffly towards the restrooms. Shutting his eyes and lowering his head, he set his water back down and managed a small smile to Cid's mother. "Mrs. Highwind, if you would please be so kind as to excuse me a moment. I believe that I have done a rather effective job of 'putting my foot in it'." At the woman's curt nod, he carefully placed his napkin on the table, rose, and followed Cid back to the restroom. The door was locked and he knocked softly on it and after hearing Cid's grunt of "Occupied," he said, "Cid, let me in."

Cid pressed the heels of his hands against his closed eyes. "I just need a minute, Vin. Go on back t'the table."

Vincent gritted his teeth and shook his head, "No, Cid. I will sit outside this door and trip waiters before I return to that table and have to sit there and play nice while you are hurting. So either you let me in, or I'll start keeping a tab as the broken dishes begin to pile up."

"Fuck, Vincent, lemme have a minute, all right? I can't have you fixin' everythin' all the time." _Just open the damned door, Highwind_. "If y'don't wanna go back out there without me, that's fine. Just be quiet if y're gonna sit there."

"You think I'm trying to _fix it_?" Vincent asked incredulously. "Cid, I don't know what the hell is going on! All I'm trying to do is understand what I did to upset you. Won't you at least talk to me?" He was starting to feel a little panicky at being so completely shut out, and that forced him to take a good hard look at his own past behavior. He didn't like it. "_Please_ talk to me." He pleaded.

Cid laughed harshly. "Aw, hell, Vin, it wasn't nothin' you did. Don't be out there worryin' about that." Cid let himself slump against the door until he was sitting and resting his elbows on his knees. "Why y'think I avoided 'er fer so long? We're leavin' soon's they bring the check, y'know that, right? 'Cause I can't hang around with 'er too much longer. Always starts out all right, then she gets rollin'…" Cid shook his head, feeling very tired. Vincent wouldn't understand, because he had trained himself not to be bothered by such things.

"And what, Cid?" Vincent asked, glaring at a curious patron who quickly realized that he didn't have to use the bathroom _that _badly, "Help me understand."

"I don't wanna be reminded every time I see 'er how disappointed she is. She don't like ya 'cause she knows I had t'try t'getcha t'come around…I saw 'er once or twice when Shera was livin' with me. Kept tellin' me 'that girl's th'best thing t'ever happen t'you,' an' all that shit. Wanted me ta 'come t'ma senses' an' 'settle down' an' 'start a family' …an' give up on ever'thin' I ever loved. She didn't want a pilot fer a son, or an astronaut, or a chef, or an artist or a fuckin' queer…I swear I heard 'er say that once, all of it, just like that. I dunno what she _did_ want, though. I got past it all, 'membered it was up t'me an' not her t'decide who I was…but every time I see 'er, all she wants t'do is have that fuckin' _attitude_, that whole disapprovin' thing. I…fuck, Vince, I just don't wanna deal with that. Not t'mention she's gonna end up upsettin' you. She ain't got no right t'do that, not t'you." Cid took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He wanted to open the door, to let Vincent hold him, but he would not. If he did, he would be proving that he needed Vincent, that he wasn't strong enough to even calm himself. But hadn't he proven that in the past? Hadn't he done so much to prove himself strong? Hadn't he played a part, a very major part, in saving the world? What was wrong with needing Vincent, anyway? Nothing, he decided, but he still wasn't ready to face him.

Vincent was quiet a moment after Cid had finished, choosing his words carefully, "We often forget how much the opinions of others mean to us, especially those whom we love. Cid, your mother raised a strong man, and you have _every right _to be proud. But I don't think she could have anticipated just how strong you really are. You followed your dreams…you touched the stars, you build magnificent airships and you fly them with unsurpassed skill. You are a warrior and a hopeless romantic and quite frankly how you balance out your creativity with your lethality astounds me and you have my deepest respect. But I believe all that intimidates her, though if she's anything like you then there is no way in hell she is going to admit that. You know…" He grunted and leaned a shoulder against the door as he crossed his arms over his chest, "…I believe I owe her a debt of gratitude actually. If she hadn't been such a battle-axe and had raised you any differently, then I would have been lost. I'd be back in that coffin, because you wouldn't be where you are now." And that realization filled him with an unexplained fear. He shivered and whispered, "Won't you please open the door?"

"I don't wanna," he whispered back. "Please gimme a minute, honey. I need…I need t'fuckin' breathe. Go tell her what y'just told me, how y're glad she was the way she was, an' all that. Tell 'er y'respect me as well as ever'thin' else, or somethin'." Vincent had given him a lot to think about, but he wasn't willing to dwell on it now. He needed to calm down, and he knew now that he wouldn't, not fully, as long as Vincent continued talking to him. "If I do open th'door, what're ya gonna do?"

For the first time in his life since becoming a man Vincent Valentine found himself wanting to cry in frustration and near heartbreak. His eyes burned and he blinked rapidly as his throat closed up and his chest hurt at this form of rejection. "Noth-" his voice broke then he cleared his throat and swallowed before managing to raggedly get out, "Nothing that would be the right thing, apparently." He fell silent, and when he spoke again, his voice shook. "Your mother has not the ability to truly upset me, Cid. Only you have that kind of power…" He made a hasty swipe at his eyes when he realized they were wet. "I'll leave you alone then." But he couldn't _leave _Cid, so while he fell silent to give the man the quiet time he needed he withdrew to sit as unobtrusively as he could against the wall by the door with his knees drawn up against his chest and his face buried in his arms folded across them. As it turned out, they _both _needed to get themselves back under control. Vincent had had no idea that Cid being upset could have affected him as strongly as it had.

Cid didn't answer. He sat there against the door for perhaps ten minutes more, then stood as soon as the shaking was gone from both his breath and his body. He paced across the room for yet another few minutes, then checked himself in the mirror once before standing in front of the door, preparing to open it. He hesitated with his hand halfway there, then swore under his breath and unlocked it anyway. The hard exterior he had just spent twenty minutes painting onto his face softened when his eyes fell upon Vincent sitting a few feet away. He leaned down and placed a hand on Vincent's shoulder. When he looked up, Cid straightened and extended a hand, thinking that now he was the one with the responsibility of fixing something.

Accepting the hand up Vincent stood, brushed off his slacks, and straightened his shirt. He had gotten himself back under control rather quickly, and he managed to meet Cid's blue eyes evenly. "Feel better?" he asked softly, his voice calm and steady.

Cid shrugged noncommittally. He would feel better when they were home…and he _would_ make this up to Vincent, somehow. Chewing on his bottom lip before acting, Cid put his arms tightly around Vincent's waist, exhaling heavily against the other man's neck. "M'sorry." Earlier Vincent had reprimanded him for apologizing in Mia's place; now Cid was apologizing for his own foolish self. He only hoped Vincent could accept it for all it stood for.

"I told you not to apologize to me," Vincent responded quietly by Cid's ear as he returned the embrace, "but I accept. I love you, Cid, and that's all that matters. Now," he pulled back and grinned, "shall we see if your mother is still here or if she gave up and stormed off." He winked.

Mia had finished eating…and had picked a few things off the plates of her lunch companions as well. The steak Cid had ordered was overcooked, and she didn't even know _what_ was on Vincent's plate, but it was much too green-tasting. She heard the two of them walking back to the table and returned to her straight-sitting, napkin-holding position.

"Sorry, Momma," Cid mumbled as he took his seat, and smiled at her briefly.

"I thought y'all'd at least have enough class not t'sneak off inta'a public restroom," she accused. "Other people use them, y'know, an' this ain't no sleazy bar."

Cid sighed and didn't bother wasting the effort to correct her. He was even less hungry now, and he pushed his plate away as he settled more fully into the seat.

"Well, it's a good thing you don't use the men's restroom then, isn't it?" Vincent sniffed, reaching up to briefly run his fingers through Cid's hair. Then he grew serious and leaned forward. "Do you know what is hardest thing for me to accept out of this whole ridiculous thing? The fact that I was eager to meet you. I had known, of course, that Cid's father had not played a large role in his life, so I kept thinking to myself that I would love to meet the woman responsible for raising such a remarkable man." He leaned back in his chair and looked at Cid's mother in disbelief, "But I do not think I have ever been more disappointed than I have been today. Madam, I used to be a Turk, and efficiency has been beaten into me from day one at the academy, and I can assure you that if I hadn't seen anything of worth in this man, then I would not have wasted my time. Cid Highwind has more honor, morality and courage than most men and women I've known, and it _confounds_ me that you are not more supportive and approving. Now, I have one question for you, and I would appreciate your complete honesty. Respect me enough to give me that. What is your problem?"

Cid just sighed again and slunk into his seat, feeling so much like a child that was tempted to ask the waiter for crayons and a color sheet.

"M'problem?" Mia asked. "M'problem is people like you. Never underestimate a mother, Mr. Valentine. If y'go around gettin' disappointed so easy…well, y'can't pretend y'ain't been disappointed in him. I was there when y'got all upset about the damned sink. Know what I think? I think you are a very unstable young man, an' that you only hang onta him 'cause he's too damned in love with ya t'do anything but tolerate ya. M'tempted t'just wash m'hands o' this whole thing. Ain't neither of ya even wants t'be here anyway." _I love that boy, idiot though he may be, but I don't know what th'hell t'do with 'im anymore. Guess I better just pretend 'e c'n take care of 'imself an' quit worryin' about it._

Vincent paled. _Maybe she's right_, he thought as his hands began a fine trembling. He'd been so confident that what they had was a mutual understanding…an equally felt love. Maybe Cid was just telling him what he wanted to hear. _No, that can't be right; Cid's not as empty as that! _But neither was he defending himself. He was just sitting there and taking it, rolling over and showing his belly. Vincent's hand came up and rubbed that spot just below his sternum and he wasn't even really aware that he was doing it. "You may be right, madam, but what transpires between my lover and myself is our business. You know nothing of how I feel for him, or how he might…feel for me. What you saw that day was one day out of a thousand and you cannot judge a relationship by that. Yes, I have been disappointed and I know I have failed him. I am damaged, and I would like to think that it is not pity that keeps him with me, but the truth of it is, I need him. He keeps me human." He looked down into his lap as a deep-seated shame colored his cheeks a fiery crimson.

That was enough. Cid stood and placed both hands flat on the table. His head stayed bowed for a moment, then he looked up and directly at Vincent. "Please tell me you didn't just say that, Vincent. What th'hell do I hafta do t'make you prove it well enough y'don't question it anymore? Don't question me anymore? I don't understand it. I don't understand how after so long, _so much_, y'still think y're… Shit, Vince, y're nothin' less than than beautiful an' I don't understand why y'still don't believe me. An' you," he said, swiveling his head to gaze sadly at Mia. "can't y'be happy fer me just once? Nothin' I've ever done's been enough fer you, an' I done got used'a that, but y'can't treat _people_ like that. Y'can't compare a person t'some kind o' accomplishment or failure or whatever th'hell y're tryin'a do." Cid swallowed. His accent was becoming thicker as a product of his frustration. "I'd take back everything I've ever done if he asked. But he doesn't…he _wouldn't_, 'cause we ain't a couple o' kids who get all giddy over 'I love you' an' shit like that, no matter how much y'wanna believe it. We don't need you tryin'a help, an' if y're tryin'a fuck it up, we ain't gonna listen. _I_ ain't, anyway," he said roughly, turning to look at Vincent again. "An' if you are, then I better getch'out 'fore she c'n make ya believe any other stupid shit."

Vincent was cold and he wrapped his arms about himself, but he managed to look into Cid's earnest eyes and he murmured, "Yes. I'm sorry." But the truth was out, and now he had to deal with being reminded of it once again. "I should not have doubted you."

_I'd be happy for ya if I thought there was anything t'be happy about._ Mia huffed. If this was the influence Vincent had on her boy, then she was even less inclined to like him. She would have responded, but she found herself more interested in the change in the interaction between Cid and Vincent.

Cid immediately felt awful. Vincent was upset now, trying to disappear into himself. It was awful to see him like that, but Cid didn't know what to do. He flagged down the waiter and called for the check, fists clenching as he realized both Mia and Vincent were still looking at him. Moving to stand behind Vincent, Cid reached for his hands and unwrapped his arms as he leaned down. "My turn t'say it. Don't you apologize t'me," he told him, and released Vincent's hands to rest his own on Vincent's shoulders instead. He looked angrily at Mia. "I don't think I wanna see y'again too soon, Momma."

Mia finally felt a small twinge of chagrin. Vincent, it appeared, did have feelings, and she had hurt them. She also felt (thought it could have been her imagination) a little bit of regret for not treating Cid the way both men claimed she should have. "I ain't gonna disagree with ya. Y'know where t'find me, I reckon, when y're ready. S'too bad this didn't go well," she finished, standing, straightening her dress, and collecting her purse.

Vincent's hand went up to cover his mouth and he shut his eyes while Cid's mother collected her things, _I ruined this! _He thought frantically, _It's my fault._ And as she began to walk past him he reached out and gently stopped her with a light touch to her arm. It took him a moment to steady himself before he said, "You only want what's best for him. I know this, because so do I. I don't doubt your love for him, so _please_ don't doubt mine. We are alone in this world but for the few people around us for whom we can claim to care, no matter in what small way that may be. It may only be acknowledgement of a presence or the willingness to die for the other, but we must hold those people close because no one deserves to die alone. Your _son _taught me that. Cid loves you, Mrs. Highwind, and I bear you no ill will, despite what happened here today. I want you to know that."

Mia studied Vincent's face carefully and nodded to him in acknowledgement before directing her attention to Cid. "I understand a lot more'n y'think I do, y'know. Both of ya. An' I hope y'll realize that soon enough an' not just write me out." Without so much as pestering Cid for a kiss, she walked out the door.

"Don't you blame yerself, either," Cid told Vincent as they stood and prepared to leave. Cid had left the waiter a decent tip, mostly to make up for the bathroom hogging. "If y'hadn't been here with me, I prob'ly just woulda sat there with 'er all miserable an' shit an' not sayin' nothin'. Ready t'go home, Vince?"

Vincent nodded wordlessly and followed Cid out of the café. He felt sick to his stomach and just wanted to be alone for a while. They didn't get far before Vincent spotted a store that he suddenly wished to go into. "Wait here, please," he told Cid, and went into the second-hand store where he purchased a ragged, ratty old pair of jeans and a faded, old, and stained black button-down. He changed and left his expensive, nice clothing behind and rejoined Cid on the street feeling more comfortable and more _appropriately_ dressed. It was hard to feel beautiful when you weren't, and his clothing was only mocking him. He shook his head when Cid opened his mouth and began walking again. Today had been a humbling experience for him. As they walked, Vincent observed mother's with their children, laughing and eating ice cream, hugging and cuddling and it made him sad. "I don't understand," he said finally and very softly. "Mothers are supposed to love their children, support them, nurture them. Even when I was human, I could never understand how this could not be."

"Guess she spent all 'er time tryin'a toughen me up, since there wasn't a man around t'do it," Cid said, though he wasn't much convinced by his explanation. "As fer all th'other ones…hell, I don't know, Vin. Y'can't ever really understand another person, can ya?"

"No, I suppose not. But one can try." They continued walking in silence, Vincent's hands shoved deep into his pockets where he discovered one to have a hole in it. _Good to know_, he thought absently. He was suddenly gripped by the urge to go and sit with Lucrecia, and he shook his head and fisted his hands in his pants. She was his past, he _had _to move on, but it didn't stop him from looking vacantly in the direction of her cave despite their being thousands of miles away. "I'm so tired," he sighed as he returned his eyes to the ground in front of them.

"I know," Cid said softly, and they reached home before either of them spoke again. Cid led them up the steps and through the door, then swept hair away from Vincent's face and reached up to kiss his forehead. "I'll be out back when y'feel better, honey. Let it go."

Vincent nodded and watched Cid go out back before wandering into the kitchen and rooting around until he found a bottle of high proof liquor. He looked at it a moment. _I wonder if I can get drunk,_ he thought listlessly before twisting off the cap and taking a long pull of the burning liquid. And burn it did, all the way down where it settled in his stomach like acid. He waited a moment, but nothing happened. _Well, maybe it'll take time, _he thought, and grabbed the second (and last) bottle for good measure. Clutching the alcohol to his chest, he exited the front door and wandered through the woods until he came to a little spring that spilled over into a tiny creek. The waterfall it made trickled merrily and it was under an enormous old tree that Vincent finally sat and waited for the pain to pass, washing it away with poison.

Cid worked for perhaps two hours before becoming concerned enough about Vincent to return to the house. "Vince?" he called, but there was no answer. He knew, of course, that Vincent couldn't be asleep. He checked the bedroom anyway, but Vincent was no more there than he was in the kitchen, in the living room, or on the porch. Cid walked outside to look around, but the space they owned was too big for Cid to explore before panicking. "Shit…" he took his phone from his pocket and dialed Vincent's number, not knowing whether Vincent was carrying it or not.

After a few rings, a puzzled voice answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Uh…"

"Cid, is it?"

"Who are ya an' what'd y'do with Vincent?"

"Pardon? Oh…Vincent must have been the one to donate these pants, hm?"

Cid hung up as realization dawned on him. "Fuck!" He would have to search the grounds after all, and keep his head while doing it. He started in the direction of the tree under which they sometimes had picnics when the weather was nice and the cloud cover was thick.

One bottle was gone and Vincent was feeling a little…off. He blinked blearily at the creek as he opened the second bottle and went to work on it. It was halfway empty before he finally just sat there staring off into space. It didn't hurt quite so bad now, if he could remember what was supposed to be hurting. He spotted the empty bottle and picked it up, then, with a little "Look out below," he tossed it up and into the creek where it shattered like a grenade. "Ka-blewie!" He snickered and burped before taking another long draught of the liquor. Then he began tossing rocks for the hell of it.

Cid searched for perhaps twenty minutes before some off-key singing reached his ears. "Vincent?" He walked a few feet further and saw the creek. Intrigued, he followed it, and eventually he came upon Vincent lounging on the ground, tossing rocks, and…well, he guessed it was singing, anyway. "Fuck, baby, what'd ya do t'yerself?" he asked incredulously, having never seen Vincent in such a state before. _That ain't what I meant when I said 'let it go'..._

"Oh, hey Cid!" Vincent said managing to sit all the way up after three tries, "I'm throwin' rocks. Wanna throw rocks with me?"

Cid sighed. How many times had Vincent humored him while he was drunk? Enough to account for this, certainly. "Sure thing, Vince. Which ones c'n I have?"

"W'll I dunno," Vincent said looking around him, "guess I thrown 'em all." He slumped back against the tree. "Here, have a drink. It's on me." He shoved the bottle into Cid's hand.

Cid blinked as he realized what he was holding. Drinking this stuff was…well, not advised, certainly, and from the looks of it, Vincent had already downed a full bottle. "Not this time, honey. Gonna be yer designated driver." He placed the bottle out of reach and maneuvered himself to sit beside Vincent and take the ex-Turk's head into his lap. "How's that feel?" he asked as he began stroking Vincent's hair. "Any better?"

"I didn' think I w's sick." Vincent said, but felt his body relax into the petting, then he squinted and reached up to touch Cid's cheek, "Yer pretty."

"So're you," Cid replied, catching Vincent's hand with the one not already busy.

"I know. Tha's why he touched me." Vincent said and withdrew his hand from Cid's to push at the pilot's hand on his head. "An tha's why you shouln'…'cause I make things dirty." He struggled until Cid let him up. "Where's my bottle?" he asked, looking around and rubbing an eye.

"Vincent…" Did it all really boil down to that? Was everything that had happened to Vincent a result of his beauty? Cid didn't think so. It would have been a hell of a motivator, sure, but that couldn't be all. "Y'can't make me any dirtier'n I am, Vince, don't worry about that." Cid pushed the bottle discreetly further into the bushes behind the tree. "I dunno where the hell that bottle went, honey. We'll hafta look for it later."_ An' you're gonna bitch at me about litterin' when y'see that broken one… _

And as that managed to sink in, Vincent grew horrified as he looked at Cid. His eyes teared up, "Oooohhh no! I slep' with you. All tha' pretty…ruined." He moaned and rolled onto his side. "Go 'way, Cid. Where's my bottle." He started to grope blindly in the bushes next to him.

Cid blinked. So he was ruined now, was he? He felt he should have been a little more offended than he was amused. _Well…fuck. I sure hope I'm easier t'deal with than this…_ "I ain't leavin' you like this. You wouldn't leave me." He somehow managed to misdirect Vincent, moving to lie beside him as he did. "Wanna know a secret? I make things pretty when I touch 'em." Okay, a blatant lie, but Vincent wouldn't remember. "So y'couldn't ever make me dirty."

Vincent blinked at Cid and then burst out laughing. "Geddout! No you don'. Yer kinda pretty don' work like that." He laughed for a little while longer before quieting and then just staring at Cid's face. He brought up a finger and traced Cid's bottom lip, "I shouln' love you, I really shouldn'. My dad said it was wron', but I did it an'way."

Cid's lips had quirked into a smile when Vincent had started laughing. _My kind o' pretty, huh?_ He watched as Vincent grew quiet, then smiled and kissed the finger that approached his mouth. "Yeah, I know. I shouldn't love you either, I reckon, but I don't give a shit who says it's wrong." _Are we even talkin' about me anymore?_ "M'glad y'did it anyway, Vince."

"Okay," Vincent said and rolled onto his back, staring at the trees for a while before turning his head back to Cid, "M'sorry I ruined it today. I tried, I really tried." His voice broke a little. "I embarras'd you." He looked back up at the trees. "I can' do what I'm tol'."

"An' I like ya just that way," Cid assured him, letting a hand wander over to touch his cheek. "An' I embarrassed m'self. You didn't ruin anythin', an' y'got nothin' t'be sorry about."

"C'n we go home now, Cid?" Vincent asked, "I'm allergic to trees an' I'm itchy."

Cid smiled and shook his head. "Yeah, let's go home. I dunno why th'hell y'came all th'way out here anyway…" He stood and helped Vincent to his feet. "You gonna make it walkin'?"

"I wanted t'be alon'," Vincent said wobbling until Cid steadied him, "but you interrupt-ed me. Th' pain wen' away until you came ba-ack." As soon as Cid released him, gravity worked and put Vincent firmly on his ass. "Whoopsie, I guess n-ot!" And he started laughing again.

Cid wasn't sure whether he should feel bad or not. He _had_ interrupted Vincent…but he had gotten quite a bit of time alone first. "Well, if I hadn't come out t'getcha, y'woulda been stuck out there in th'itchy trees all night," he scolded, helping Vincent to his feet again.

Vincent just grunted. Suddenly, talking became too much of a chore. With Cid's help, he managed to navigate back to the house despite the undulating ground and fast-moving trees. He was quite tired of dodging shadows by the time they stepped up onto the porch. Cid pushed open the front door and carefully steered him through it. While the pilot was closing the door, Vincent stumbled over to the couch and did an admirable face-plant as he passed-out.

"You're a mess, Vincent," Cid pointed out as he walked around to take off the sleeping man's shoes…then everything else as well just for the hell of it. He carried Vincent to their bedroom and placed him under the covers, groaning at the patches on his arms that looked suspiciously like poison ivy. Cid showered, and returned to Vincent to check on him. He wasn't awake yet, but Cid really had nowhere else to be, so he slid under the covers beside Vincent.

_Oh, I don't feel so good_, Vincent thought as he swam awake gods only knew how many hours later. He didn't remember passing out, or much past the first bottle he had stupidly downed in such a short amount of time. All that he knew or cared about now was the fact that he was going to throw up. It didn't even register that he was nude. Swallowing convulsively, he tried to get out of bed and really rather _fell _out instead. He somehow managed to drag himself into the bathroom, and draped himself over the toilet bowel where he proceeded to empty his stomach, then his small intestines, and finally what he could have sworn was his spleen. His hair had gotten in the way, but he didn't care. Moaning, he curled around the toilet and shivered as violent chills overtook his body, doubling him up as his muscles clenched and seized. It would seem that his demons didn't like alcohol.

Years of being left alone in bed due to Vincent's inability to sleep properly contributed to the fact that Cid did not wake up when Vincent left this time. He did not hear the retching, moaning, or splattering sounds that ensued; he didn't so much as roll over. The next time he was conscious, Vincent was shakily climbing back into bed. Cid blinked awake then and asked, "You all right, honey?"

"Do I fucking _look_ all right, Highwind?" he snapped hoarsely, dragging all the covers around him and ignoring Cid's squawk of protest. He had never been this cold and he just about damned near shook the bed with his shivering. He had just sort of gotten comfortable when a new bout of nausea kicked in him in the gut and he leaned over groping for the wastepaper basket. He managed to drag it under his face as he retched, but by now, he was only dry heaving. By the time this round was over, he was so exhausted he couldn't even lie back on the bed and just hung his head over the side and shuddered. "I wish I could die," he rasped miserably.

_Shut the fuck up. Y'brought this on yerself_. Saying things like that to Vincent was a bad idea, so he kept his mouth shut. He did, however, stand and leave the room. He wasn't taking this today, not after all the rest of it. Besides, someone had to start dinner, even if Vincent probably wasn't planning to eat. "Hope y'feel better, Vin," Cid called from the hallway, feeling that he should have something nice to say.

"Go to hell, you blond bastard!" Vincent yelled after him, and rolled up in the blankets, fully intending to never move again. *

"Well, 'scuse me," Cid grumbled at the sink. "Thought y'wanted t'be alone 'cause the pain comes back when I do." Cid looked at the clock, realizing how late in the day it was. Fine, dinner would just be a sandwich tonight. That was fine with him. He tossed together some cheese, bread, and cold cuts, parked himself in front of the television, and began watching it-- on mute, so as not to annoy Vincent further.

Vincent was not one to wallow in self-pity. It never got a person anywhere. As he lay there replaying that day over and over in his head, he kept getting stuck on when he stopped remembering things. Cid was upset, and it had to be a result of something he had said. Dragging himself out of bed he stumbled into the living room and leaned, pale and shivering against a doorframe. "What did I say, out there?" He made a vague gesture with his arm towards the forest.

Cid smiled offhandedly. "Lots o' stuff, Vin. Don't worry 'bout it." He finished his last few bites and walked over to Vincent. "You up fer a shower if I help ya? Could use it, I think."

"What did I say?" he asked again, unmoving.

"Hell, Vin, which part? We were out there a good hour or so, dammit, an' y'hardly shut up the whole time! Y'told me I was pretty, an' that y'made me dirty by bein' with me. That what y're lookin' for?" Cid didn't want to be angry. He was tired of being exasperated and irritated and annoyed. He just wanted some peace, but that clearly wasn't happening today.

Vincent just looked at Cid, his face utterly unreadable. Finally, he silently turned, walked back into the bedroom, and climbed back into bed, wrapping himself up in the blankets and wondering if he could will himself to die if he tried hard enough.

Cid followed him after a moment and perched on the edge of the bed, trying to avoid the mess. "You know how much I fuckin' hate this, Vin. I don't know what y'want from me." He reached out tentatively and brushed away those stray bits of hair again. "Don't get upset with me again t'day."

Vincent peeked out from his nest of blankets and murmured, "I was never upset with you, Cid. You did nothing wrong. I don't understand, after all this time how I can't just get it over it. I always say or do _something_ to upset you or disappoint you. Why can't I just let it all go? Like you, you just accept things and keep going and I can't." He pulled the blankets closed around him once more and said, "I am so weak."

"Y'don't get it. I was never upset with you, either, an' I don't think I've ever been disappointed in ya…well, maybe I was t'day when y'got yerself all drunk like that without even tellin' me y'were leavin' th'house. Yer phone's in the pants y'left at that shop, by the way. Had me real worried." He did agree that Vincent needed to learn to get over things, though. "Come on out, Vince. Y'll feel better if we clean you up an' change these sheets." Vincent didn't move. "You ain't weak, Vin. How many times I gotta tell ya y're one o' the strongest people I know? Don't y'remember me tellin' ya that way back in th'beginnin'? It still stands." He tugged at the blankets hiding his Vincent from him. "M'sorry I make ya hurt."

"I didn't believe you then and I still don't believe you now. Strength, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder," Vincent said as he slowly disentangled himself from the wad of blankets and sat up, facing Cid. "It's a two-sided coin, Cid. You can't feel the pleasure without some pain. I hurt, but then you remind me how good I can feel too. Did I _really_ get that drunk?" he asked curiously.

"Well…let's say I certainly wouldn't wanna see ya get any drunker. I do have a question though. If my kind o' pretty doesn't work the way I said it did, how does it work? Assumin' y'remember that part, anyhow."

Vincent blushed furiously. "I called you pretty?" He frowned, trying to think of what he could have meant by that. "I'm sorry Cid, I just don't remem-" Wait a moment, he _vaguely _remembered something to that effect. His blush deepened and he said, not meeting Cid's eyes, "If I had to hazard a guess, it would be that your kind of "pretty" is not here," he cupped Cid's face, then placed his hand solidly over the pilot's heart, "it's here. _This_ is where your strength lies. _This_ is what I'm afraid of hurting." He looked up and tried a weak smile.

Cid chuckled. "Gee, thanks, Vince. Way t'make me feel handsome." He placed his hand over Vincent's and held it. "You need a kiss," he declared, and stretched over to deliver it, braving vomit and sour breath and a world of other unpleasant things.

"Well, at least I'm not superficial and fell for a pretty face," Vincent sniffed after Cid pulled back, allowing a corner of his lips to quirk up.

"I guess so," Cid said, still laughing a little. "You gotta let me change these sheets unless y'want me on the couch t'night. Just wantcha t'know that."

"What, the big bad Cid Highwind afraid of a pukey little monster and slightly stinky sheets?" Vincent teased, battling a chuckle.

"Afraid? Nossir. I just know t'morra you'll be up an' clean b'fore me, an' if I so much as walk inta the kitchen smellin' like these sheets do now, y'll turn me right back aroun' an' push me inta the shower headfirst. Tryin'a beat ya t'the punch this time." Cid winked and suddenly found himself thinking that he would have to quit keeping alcohol in the house.

Vincent laughed out loud at that. "Too true, Highwind, too true." He could never stay mad or unhappy around Cid for long. He crossed his arms over his chest and raised a black brow. "So if I consent to a shower, is that offer for help still on the table?"

"Sure thing. I'll be there as soon as I get this trashcan dumped and these sheets in the wash. Deal?"

"Deal. Now kiss me again, you big idiot." Vincent said and pulled Cid in for another kiss. When he pulled back, Vincent made a face, "You _are _a brave man. Gods, it tastes like some kind of creature died in my mouth. You need more credit. I think a good tooth brushing is in order first."

Cid laughed again. "Sounds like a plan. You do that while I'm workin' real hard cleanin' up after ya," here he stopped to sigh dramatically, "an' then we'll see about all that credit I deserve, how's that?" Vincent shook his head and retreated to the bathroom, and Cid took another moment to marvel over how far they had come. _Guess it's a good thing I didn't try t'get 'im drunk when I first met 'im._

* * *

_Ewww....and awww. Now, doesn't Ciddy deserve a review for that? _


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